Things More Terrifying
by TheSailboat
Summary: Derek chokes slightly. His brown eyes soaking in blue. He was completely smothered in this pale skinned, fragile boy. And damn, did his taste buds dance. He's sweeter than honey, and warmer than the sun. In this moment, Derek was reminded that there are things more terrifying, more unexplainable, than even werewolves. There was Stiles, and there was love.
1. Chapter 1

"Derek?" He slurred, and giggled into the phone.

"Ugh Stiles?"

The alpha heard Stiles saying goodbye to someone, then the loud sound of music drifted farther away.

"Stiles?" He asked again, amused by the drunken boy. "Hello?"

"Oh Derek right," He laughed for a second, " I forgot you called."

"I didn't call you." The wolf was annoyed, despite the laugh building in his chest. Stiles was incredibly confused on what was happening. Why was Derek on the phone? He sat against his Jeep, tossing his keys in one hand. Up then down, up then down. It made him dizzy, but he continued watching them rise and fall. Suddenly, he felt like he was going to...

"Stiles!" Derek growled.

"Oh shit, I forgot I was on the phone." He snapped back to reality. His stomach still a bit uneasy.

"Why did you call me?"

Stiles thought hard. Tossing the keys once more. Derek could hear the metal jingle together through the phone, and wondered how safe it was for him to be driving. He tossed them a little higher, and they fell to the floor. Bending down to pick them up, he realized just how drunk he was.

"I need a ride." He urged.

"Do you even know where you are?"

"I think I might, well actually, uh I see a house. A lot of houses. That one has a garden, but no. I don't."

"Ask someone then." Derek smirked.

Stiles looked around, He didn't really see anyone. Except for a few boys playing basketball across the street. He called them over. It took twenty minutes for Stiles to get to the point, and ask for directions.

It was a little after 10 when Derek climbed in his car. He drove out of the woods, through town, and into a maze of high-end track homes. His senses heightened at his command. There was the sound of the party. The smell of alcohol, sweat, throw up, perfume. A flurry of strong, overwhelming scents; and then Stiles. It was defiantly him, though he was drenched in a hot waft of rum. Derek made a left, falling his nose. As he pulled up, Stiles was sitting against his Jeep. There were a couple of boys standing next to him, watching as he slumped over. He was going to throw up. Derek climbed out of the Camaro.

"Get the hell out of here." He waved his arms at the kids.

"Derek!" Stilinski smiled up at him, hands resting on his knees. The boys looked at Derek then Stiles.

"Uhm Mr. Stilinski?" one of them questioned.

"Ben! This is Derek! Derek this is my friend Ben and Shane and Alex." He smiled, pointing to the three boys.

"Actually my name is Shaun, not Shane." The youngest one said.

"Why are you drunk, hanging out with a group of kids?" Derek walked over cautiously, crossing his arms.

"Well I was just trying to tell them why going to party's is bad. But after I told them about all the loud music, and alcohol and women they still didn't get it. So I said that people get really drunk, like throw up drunk. Like me." He looked up slightly, flashing a half smile. His hands were still on his knees, and Derek could smell the vomit salivate in his mouth.

"Seriously, you three should get out of here." He said, closing the space between him and Stiles.

"Bye Mr. Stilinski!" They each said.

"Wait! you guys promised we would play basketball after I threw up!" He laughed. But they were in the safety of their home before the sentenced sputtered from his lips. Derek shook his head as he put Stiles in the back seat.

"I want to be in the front, I'm not a little kid. I don't want to be back here." He fought.

"You just... really need to lie down."

Once he snuggled up to the cushioned leather, he didn't dare moving. They drove for a couple minutes before Stiles' mumbling was replaced with steady breaths. Derek pulled up to the Stilinski house, and put the car in park.

"Come on, time to get up." Stiles opened his eyes to Derek pulling open the passenger seat. He didn't remember falling asleep.

"I can't be here, my dad is home. He thinks I'm with Scott." He leaned out of the door from the back seat.

"Not my problem." The alpha rolled his eyes.

Before Stiles could argue, he threw up on the pavement. Derek jumped back and stared angrily at the boy. At least he managed to get it all on the floor and not the car. Stiles climbed out of the back seat.

"Thanks." He said, stumbling up his driveway. It took a minute before Derek gave in.

"Hey wait, I guess you can stay at my house tonight. But you're going to owe me," Derek pushed the passenger seat of the Camaro back, allowing Stiles to slide in next to him,"Big time."

"Thank you, seriously I'll do anything." He muttered. Placing his warm hands on his cold red cheeks.

They drove for a while in silence.

"Does this radio work?" Stiles said, reaching for the dash.

"No. Don't touch it." Immediately, he snatched his hand back. Causing Derek to smile at his obedience.

"How is Scott getting home?"

"Oh well, he hooked up with Allison tonight. I don't know what he expected me to do. I'd figured I could park down the street and sleep in my car." Stiles said, focusing on everything other than what he was saying.

"Well I could drive you to get your Jeep in the morning, and then I need a few favors." Derek turned the car, headlights revealing the burnt house.

Stiles wondered if Derek's bed was burnt too, or if maybe he just slept on the floor. He opened his door and got out, but immediately fell against the side of the car and threw up.

"Fucks sake Stiles, how much did you drink?" Derek was concerned.

"Well you know, go big or go home." He breathed, before more vomit poured out of him.

"Actually I don't. As a werewolf I know my limits." He said, grabbing Stiles under the arms and helping him to the house. It was freezing inside. Stiles was half walking and half being dragged to Derek's couch. He laid down and immediately threw up on the burnt wood floor.

"God Dammit Stiles! You're never staying here again."

"I'm sorry I just-" He fell off the couch, barely catching himself from falling in the puke.

Derek hadn't noticed that Stiles was beyond too big to sleep there. He should make him stay on the couch, but seeing him on his hands and knees staring down at his own throw up, he gave in. They walked up stairs to the only room with a bed. Derek put a trashcan on one side, and left the room. Stiles looked around, taking off his shirt and belt. The room was pretty nice, and looked stable, for being burnt. The comforter was white, and there were four white pillows propped against the head board. Stiles lied down, and Derek returned with a glass of water. He placed it on the night stand.

"Thanks." Stiles said, grabbing the glass. Derek noticed the shirt and belt lying in the middle of the floor, but disregarded it.

"Are you wearing you're shoes.. on my bed!?" Stiles shook his head, setting the water down. Derek pulled the covers off, revealing mud on his white sheets.

"I'm tired of your shit Stilinski."

Stiles held up one foot, and the werewolf glared at him.

"Take off your own shoes." He walked to the other side of the bed, and took off his belt and shirt.

"You should have a drink," Stiles struggled with the left shoe," You're too serious." The right fell to the wood floor.

"You're not even old enough to drink." Derek pulled off his jeans, and walked to a dresser. Taking out two pairs of flannel pajama pants, and handing one to Stiles.

"Well I'm the Sheriff's son, and I gave an order. Go get a drink." Stiles sat back, hands behind his head.

"I'm an alpha, which means I don't take orders," He threw the pajamas at Stiles," from anyone."

They both slipped into the comfortable pants and lied down.

"Besides," Derek put his hands behind his head, lying on his back like Stiles was," Isn't the Sheriff's son supposed to be a good kid?"

"What are you talking about? I'm a good kid." Stiles was shocked.

"Lets see. The Sheriff's son is underage, drunk, and in a werewolves' bedroom. Does that sound right to you?"

"I am not drunk! I hold my alcohol fine." He smiled, turning on his side to face Derek.

"You're like a god damn sprinkler." Stiles laughed into the air, causing Derek to smile. "

Maybe I could use a drink." He walked out of the room and returned with two glasses and a bottle of what Stiles made out to be bourbon.

Derek sat at the foot of the bed, pouring one glass and handing it to Stiles.

"Cheers."

They polish off the bottle, and Derek walks down stairs to put the glasses away. When he comes back in the room, there is a fat smile plastered on Stiles' face.

"What are you doing? What kind of face is that?" Derek laughs, sitting on his half of the bed which Stiles has completely invaded.

"How do you get these?" He puts one hand on Derek's stomach, marveling at the muscles.

"Well," Derek stands up, every word is a laugh," this doorway is a lot of help." He puts his hands on the door frame, doing a perfect set of pull-ups. Stiles stares at him, amazed.

"That doesn't, that doesn't look that hard!" Stiles walks over, half stumbling. He places both hands on the door frame, just as Derek did, and takes a deep breath. He pulls up once, and Derek raises an eyebrow. As he goes to pull up a second time, his arms quiver and he hits the ground. He curls up and laughs into the wood floor. Derek falls with him, gripping his muscles as he explodes. The forest stirs for a moment as their laughs penetrate the still air outside.

"Stiles you- ahaha- you- haha- oh my god." They laugh even harder. Stiles jumped up, running his fingers through his hair.

"Well we can't all be werewolves!" He joked, throwing his arms up in the air.

"You make it sound like being a werewolf isn't cool." Derek smirked, stepping closer to Stiles.

"Yeah its cool, of course. I mean you have these abs," He looked down putting his hand close to Derek's stomach," and I'm sure you get lots and lots of girls. But I bet keeping up this act of being the big bad wolf must get tiring." Derek's face was blank. Stiles didn't buy it for a second, he knew Derek had a soft side.

"These abs are great." Derek ran his hand over them, to the waist of his pajamas. He slides in one finger, then steps closer to Stiles.

"The girls are even better." He puts his hands on the boys shoulders.

"But believe me Stiles, I am a big. bad. wolf." He picked Stiles up, throwing him over his broad shoulders. Stiles howled.

"Put me down! Jesus I believe you, now put me down." He pleaded. Derek threw him on the bed, and let out a small growl. Stiles shook his head, eyes wide.

"So you can throw me over your shoulders. Big whoop. Really, I'm terrified." Stiles smiled from the bed.

"You should be." Derek grinned, liking where this was going. Stiles saw the playfulness in his eye, and tried to back away, but it was too late. In one swift move, Derek had grabbed his leg and had him over his shoulders again.

"You're light as hell Stilinski!"

"I'm gonna throw up on you!" Stiles warned, but the wolf took lightly to the threat.

Derek pinned Stiles to a wall, holding his wrist tight to the burnt wood. He leaned in close, putting his nose on Stiles' neck. His breath was so warm on the boy's skin, and it tickled slightly. He smells so fine, Derek thought, like honey. He released a tiny growl, then bit lightly on Stilinski's neck. He was only kidding those times that he said he'd rip Stiles' throat out with his teeth, but now it didn't seem like such a bad idea. He put his nose above Stiles' ear, letting his lips rest there.

"A v_ery _big, and _very _bad wolf." Derek let go, realizing what being in heat had done.

"Stiles I'm seriously, I just don't know why I-" Stiles was against him, kissing his lips. He laced his fingers into the wolf's hair, and licked his neck. But Derek gently pushed him away.

"Stiles you're drunk. I don't want you to do anything regretful. I mean, I didn't think that you liked guys." He stood back more. Stiles had been so caught up in the kissing, that he had never made note that those gentle lips and vicious teeth were Derek Hale's.

"Holy shit. Derek I'm not... Wow we really did just-. Its just that, I'm not gay." He looked at Derek, whose eyes were wide with knowledge.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?!" Stiles said, anger clear on his face.

"Its just that, I can feel your heartbeat-"

"Yeah you're a wolf, I haven't forgotten yet, okay?" Stiles paced the room.

Derek rolled his eyes. "I can feel your heartbeat, and you were lying."

"I was lying? How was I lying?! I don't look at guys like th-" Stiles swallowed hard.

"You're still lying." Derek said, sitting on the bed.

"So what do I do. I don't know how to be gay! Oh god I should call Danny tomorrow, maybe he knows what to do. I can't be gay though, what about Lydia!? Do I have to change how I dress? I like my style, its comfortable. What do you think? Should I-" Then Stiles' head started spinning, and he reached for the trashcan by the bed. Derek waited for him to finish before lying him down.

"I think that you should sleep." He urged, and when Stiles finally agreed, the wolf shut off the light. Lying awake on his half of the bed.

**PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW! Thank you! Any comments or questions are highly appreciated.**


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles woke up on the edge of the bed. His head pounding loud in the quiet room. Derek was sprawled out on his half of the mattress, breathing heavy. The boy shook his head, feeling a tangle of emotions knot in his stomach. Nausea and embarrassment spreading through his body. He bundled into his shirt, and cradled the rest of his things in a ball. Sneaking out of the room, he was careful not to make a sound. Checking and testing each floor board under a gentle step until he was safely out of the room. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, getting dressed. Leaving Derek's pajama pants folded on the floor. Stiles held his breath, opening the front door. The cold air forced itself into the house. He stepped outside and it closed silently behind him. A deep sigh releasing from his chest.

The alpha heard Stiles leave, but made no attempt to stop him. Knowing he was probably very confused about what happened. Instead, Derek stood at his window, as Stilinski walked through the woods, and out of sight. But Stiles was unaware of just how shook up the wolf was too.

It was incredibly cold out, only making the hangover worse. Stiles crossed his arms, trying to kindle any hope of warmth. If his Jeep was there, this would only take a few minutes. But wishing for it made no difference, so his feet trudged on. He kicked at an acorn for a while, trying to take his attention off last night. Things had happened so fast. One minute, Scott was forcing him to a stupid party. The next, he was pinned to a wall in the burnt down Hale house. He figured those 2 rums and that third shot were a bad idea, but there were too many people pressuring him. He wished he hadn't gone to Derek's. It was a mistake. A drunken mistake. And as far as he was typically concerned, it was normal for a teenager to have a few if those. But this was different. In any other situation, life goes on. You forgive and forget, but drawing a blank now seemed impossible. His ADHD had him on lock, and it played the whole scene over and over in his mind.

Though Derek said he would drive him to get his truck, he had to get out of that house. He couldn't face the Alpha, so ignoring the problem was the only alternative. Still, Stiles needed his Jeep, and Scott was his only hope. His best friend was most likely spending his Sunday sleeping inn. Regardless, Stiles grabbed his phone. The crisp air caused his fingers to shake against the buttons, and it took him a few minutes to get a solid text through.

_Call me when you wake up_

He stuffed the cell in his pocket. This walk felt especially endless, and Stiles wasn't used to not talking this long. He was sure that even in his sleep he made more noise. In the distance, there was a familiar clearing in the wood, and he relaxed at the sight of it. Home didn't feel so far away now. His phone hums, breaking the calm hush.

"Scott?"

"Hey, where'd you go last night?"

"Ugh I got a ride home, but I still need to get my Jeep. Where was that party at again? Why are you up so early?" He was in definite need of his Adderal.

"My mom woke me up, she wants me to spend the day with her. How are you getting your Jeep?"

"Oh that's nice! Well I'm not sure, but I'm open to ideas." Talking felt TABOO as each word rolled off his tongue.

"Allison can drive you? She knows where its at." Stiles contemplated.

"Well..." He dragged out the L. Letting it vibrate in his mouth.

"Come on Stiles. She wouldn't mind."

"But its Allison. I mean, it just seems," His jaw rattled," Alright, fine. But we're still meeting at the lacrosse field tonight?"

"Yeah, and I'll have her call you. Later." The other line sounded a heavy beep, and Stiles rubbed his temples. Scott hadn't even cared to ask whopicked him up from the party, or where he wandered off to.

Stiles took his time getting to the main road. It was nearly 8, and a beautiful morning. Despite the headache trembling against his brain. He wanted to be home already, lying in HIS bed. When he reached the first sidewalk, he sat. His house was only a few streets off, but he was insanely burnt out.

"Come on Stilinski, come on. Just a couple more streets, stupid legs!" Loosening his neck, he prepared to stand up, but the saliva in his mouth warmed, compelling him to dry heave. He clutched his growling stomach. Realizing eating was impossible.

"Never again." Stiles breathed. He directed down the sidewalk. With a quick pace and shaky legs, he willed himself. And after what felt like hours, he was standing in his driveway. The Sheriff's car was gone, and he entered the empty home.

Stiles stripped, tossing his clothes to the bottom of the hamper. The water was hot. It curved against his skin in steaming streams. He positions his face directly under the shower head. Droplets settle onto his eyelashes, and run off his nose.

"Just a mistake. I didn't know what I was doing." He whispered, pleaded with his running conscious. Waiting to take his adderal until after the shower was a mistake.

Water poured into his mouth when he spoke. As a thick hot fog clouded the air, breathing became difficult, so he turned off the water and found a towel. Though his confusion was just as vigorous as before, the shower made it easier to breath. He felt clean, but only physically relieved of last nights accident. Steamed rolled out of the bathroom, encompassing him. He sat on his bed, a towel wrapped around his waist. The air was colder in here, numbing his bare skin. But it put a refreshing feel on the situation. His phone rang from the bathroom, and he sat there for a moment before scrambling to answer it.

"Hey..Allison?" He asked, not checking the number.

"Hey Stiles." Her voice was gentle through the speakers. This felt too weird.

"So uh... what's up?" The P popped of his lips.

"Studying. For finals. Its just, Scott said you needed a ride?"

"Oh yeah, that. But if you're busy I can figure it-"

"It's no problem, I think I've earned a break." Stiles could feel her smiling through the phone.

"Okay," He paused, opening his dresser drawer," Okay, well I just got out of the shower, actually."

"Oh well, call me whenever you're ready then?"

"I will do that." He hung up immediately. Shaking his head and squeezing his eyes at the sound of his own foolishness.

"Why are you so freaking awkward?" He pulled a shirt from his drawer.

Stiles dries off poorly, and gets dressed. He grabs a chunk of hair in his hand. Its about time for a trim. After lacing up his Adidas, he walks downstairs. From the cupboard he pulls out his adderal and some pain reliever. The bottle reads _**Take With**_**_ Food. _**But he knows that just can't happen, not today. Before he calls Allison, he stuffs a few waters into his sports bag, and grabs a hoodie.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Allison, I'm ready"

"Alright, great, I'll be right there."

A bowl of grapes sits on the counter, and he pops a few in his mouth. There's a notepad on his fridge with a pen next to it. In his dad's handwriting it reads: _I'm working late, have a good day at school. Love you.  
_

Its from Thursday, so Stiles rips it off and grabs the pen.

_dad, I'm going to the lacrosse field with Scott, be back later. i love you_

Outside, a car pulls in the driveway, and he goes to meet Allison.

"Hey, thank you. you know for, you know." He climbs in the passenger door, placing his gear at his feet.

"Seriously, no problem." She smiles, putting the car in reverse. He bares his teeth, and looks out the window. A girl's voice plays through the speakers, singing about love. He should say something, but surprisingly he's nervous. Like somehow she knows about last night. The car makes a hard left into a shopping center parking lot.

"I'm gonna get something to eat, do you want anything?" They park in front of an ice cream shop. Honestly, ice cream is probably the only thing Stiles can keep down, but there's a lack of money in his wallet, and he couldn't let Allison pay.

"I'm not really hungry," He lies, "but ill come in with you."

They step out of the car, and she raises an eyebrow towards him.

"Are you okay? I mean, you're _always_ hungry."

"I'm great! Just a little hung over. You know, big party last night." He smiles, but she simply shakes her head as he opens the door.

"What?" Stiles shoots her a confused look.

"Its just, so many people lie to me Stiles, but I never thought you'd be one of them." She pulls on the bottom of her leather jacket.

He doesn't try to deny it. Allison could see right through him, and he wondered if maybe he should confide in her. Let out the details of last night that also made it difficult to eat.

"So how are ugh, " He swallows hard," How are you and Scott."

She finishes ordering and turns to him.

"We're good. how are you and Lydia?" She smiles, dimples dipping into her cheeks.

"We're getting there." He opens the door for her as she carries her ice cream.

"Yeah? Where's that?"

"Mmm, well nowhere. She's less understandable than the freaking Davinci code." He sits against the hood, slapping his hands to his knees. Lydia wasn't the person on his mind anyway.

Allison takes a seat next to him, eating spoonfuls of cool strawberry and vanilla. He stares at each bite meet her lips. A pool of hunger drowning his mouth. She looks over at him, laughing.

"Do you want some?" She holds it forward, offering.

"No," He looks down at the cup ," Yeahhh."

The ice cream is so soothing in his mouth and stomach. He rolls it over his tongue, letting it melt. And after a third bite, he hands it back. Allison finishes, and they climb in the car.

"Its a long drive, and I'm pretty sick of this c.d," She clicks the radio off, sneaking a passive glance at Stiles," Maybe we could just.. talk?" He gives a sound of approval, and she pulls out of the parking lot.

"You can tell me whats going on, if you want." The skylight is open, letting the twilight of Beacon Hills encase the car in gentle blues and reds. Stiles stares at his lap. The position of the light causing the left pant leg look a bright green, while the other stays a dark blue.

Playing stupid wasn't possible around her. And Stiles underestimated the fact that she was so much more than a skilled archer. She knew people, body language. And she definitely knew that Stiles was hiding something. She had respect for other's secrets, and in any other case she would drop it. But this looked like it was eating Stiles alive.

"Just a hangover." He looks up from his lap at her, shrugging.

"Stiles, trust me." She begs.

He peeks out the window, the words bubbling in his stomach. Thoughts clashing with one another. _Tell her. Don't tell her._ He swallowed, and gave in to Allison's deadly glances.

"Have you ever done something stupid, _really_ stupid. Like when you were drunk?"

She nodded. All eyes on the road, he continued.

"There was this... person. And we kissed. And, god, I just want to take it back. Or well I don't, I mean I do, but I- I don't know." He took a deep breath, slowing down. "But everything just happened so fast. I really don't know why I'm saying this."

"Who?"

Stiles stares, as if she's speaking a different language. His face is red with humiliation. She asks again, but all he can do is shake his head.

"You've told me this much, you can't turn back now." She assures.

"Well. Yeah, but. Ummm."

"Do I know her?" Allison smiles into the wind shield. Stiles nods.

"Who?! Was she at the party last night?" Shes giddy now.

"No, not at the party." He'd gotten himself in to deep. She was right, no turning back, so he said fuck it and leaped forward.

"It wasn't a girl either." His face is searing hot.

"Oh.." Allison thought, Issac maybe? Boyd? Danny!?

"Oh my god, Danny!?"She blurted out in excitement.

"What!? God, uhm no...NO. It was Derek, Jesus." The accusation had knocked Stiles right of his feet.

" Huh, Danny." He murmured under his breath.

When he turned to Allison, her eyes were wide. The car was slowing, and he could see his Jeep. She parked and locked the doors.

"Tell me what happened. Everything." How did he get himself in this situation? Why in the world, of all people, was his mind letting him tell Allison?

He opened his mouth, recapping every detail that had been taking over his mind. The words felt like they were pouring out of his mouth, and with them, the uneasy weight on his shoulders. She sat patiently, taking in every last syllable. He was nervous about telling her. Nervous she'd tell Scott, but his mouth ran faster than his brain, for once. When he finished, he grabbed his head, feeling dizzy. Like he just went through some out of body experience. Allison is quiet. Shocked by Stiles' confession.

"So are you..?"

"I don't think so, well I don't know. I've never thought of guys like," He pauses," _that_ before."

"But you didn't like it?" Her face was still in shock, a hint of anger peeking in the depths of her eyes.

"I don't remember. I was too drunk." He shook his head.

"So you're just going to ignore him?" It sounded like a bad idea when she said it.

"Mm, guess so?"

Allison sighed, "Thank you for talking to me. And I'm here if you need anything." She smiled, unlocking the door. But Stiles knew she didn't like the idea of Derek.

"Thank you." He actually meant it.

There was a pile of throw up near the hood of the Jeep, his throw up. His phone rings, and he scrambles through the lacrosse bag to find it. Scott.

"Hello?"

"Hey, can we meet at the lacrosse field right now?"

"Yeah, I just got the Jeep. Now if I can find my way out of this maze." He said, spinning in circles.

"Oh yeah! Allison said-"

"Allison said what!?" _fuck fuck fuck._ Stiles was shaking. He was so caught up in getting out of her car that he totally blanked on asking her not to tell Scott.

"She just wanted to know if you wanted to go on a double date?" His best friend sounded confused.

"Double date? With who?"

"Lyyydia?" Scott said it extremely slow, piercing it into Stiles' mind.

"Lydia," He sighed," Wait, what? Lydia?!"

"Yes Stiles... Lydia. Are you okay?"

"Fine. I'm fine."

"Okay.. See you at the field?"

"Yeah, the field. Later." He hangs up, and turns on his Jeep. Maybe, he really could trust the archer.

**Thank you for all of your reviews! I know first chapter was fast, but there is reason. Please stick with me, for the sake of our couple. (: SailBoat out.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello! Honestly, I want to write the lovey dovey stuff as much as you all want to read it, but we've got to take baby steps. Enjoy. (Review, Follow, Favorite. Whatever you please) **

Monday morning, Stiles felt especially drowsy. He contemplated skipping first so he could catch up on his sleep schedule. There really was no point of going- Tuesday and Wednesday were the teacher's prep days for finals, which meant no school. Making Monday feel like the odd man out. Though even walking felt like a heavy task, Stiles couldn't complain. His hangover was gone, and his appetite was definitely back. He stumbles down the stairs, to his dad drinking coffee at the kitchen table.

"Stiles." A voice greets him from behind a wall of newspaper.

"John." He grabs a muffin, and pops two waffles into the toaster.

"What're your plans for today?" The sheriff sets his paper down.

"Go to school, beat up some nerds. Maybe steal my teacher's car, oh and rob a bank." Stiles takes a large bite out of his muffin.

"Lovely." His dad sighs loudly from across the table. On cue, Stiles' waffles pop from the toaster, and he fills his plate in a bed of syrup. Its hard not to notice his dad's heavy gaze, though he tries. There was no way in hell the sheriff knew about Derek, but he didn't really need too. Stiles felt disgusting, regardless of what his father knew.

"Are you.. are you pregnant?" The boy's eyes shot up, full of commotion. John laughed at the twisted face of his son, syrup settling on the corners of his mouth.

"Its just," He laughed,"you're like, eating for two."

Stiles chuckles in relief, and finished off the plate. Seeing his dad in such a good mood always made his problems feel like they'd melt away. And though he was stuffed, he reached for a banana off the table just to see that naturally affectionate, yet stern, grin one more time.

"Well bud, I'm off. I love you."

"I love you too!" Stiles called from upstairs, and he could hear the police car outside cruise out of the driveway. His phone buzzes on the nightstand. Scott.

_Be ready, double date tonight._

Stiles hadn't forgotten for a second. Lydia Lydia Lydia. How Allison managed to get her to agree came as a complete mystery to Stiles. And he knew it wasn't just because Allison truly enjoys double dates. When he had told her about Derek, he didn't need to know body language to see the discomfort and anger stark across her face. Still, she listened, and Stiles was in dire need of anyone that would do just that.

He dresses in his slimmest shirt and some dark jeans. He flosses; twice, and after brushing his teeth, he mouth washes the same. _I've got to look good._

The Jeep is cold, so while Stiles lets it warm up, he calls Allison.

"Stiles?"

"Why do you want me to go on this double date?" Straight to the point.

"I just like spendi-"

"Now you're the one lying!" He laughs ingenuously into the phone, but still playful.

"Stiles, you seemed really down about the whole... thing. And I really don't feel like Derek is the right uhm choice? I guess."

"What's wrong with Derek?" Stiles flings his hand over his mouth. _Did I really just say that?_

"What?"

"It was a joke. I'll see you at school." He hung up, throwing the phone in the passenger seat.

"STUPID STUPID STUPID!" Stiles' head hits the steering wheel. He sits there a couple minute before realizing he's late, so he puts the car in reverse, heading for school. The bells already rung, so he has to shuffle through the groups of other late kids to get to class. _Yup, Monday's are my favorite._

The teacher's make every second feel like hours as they nag on. In third period, Lydia walked by the class, and for a moment school didn't feel so bad. It was only then that Stiles realized he had no idea what they were doing on the date. The bell rings through the halls, and he's let out for lunch.

"Scott, what are we doing on the date?" Scott shakes his head, taking a bite off a fry.

"Surprise." He mumbles, mouth over flowing with food.

"Scott." Stiles prolongs the name, slumping his shoulders. The werewolf only smiles at his best friend.

"Just be ready after school, bring money." Scott hints. Lydia and Allison walk over, talking about finals. After the conversation is finished, Stiles buts in.

"So Allison, where's this date?" She glances at Lydia, then Scott.

"Its a surprise, Stiles."

"So everyone," He motioned to the three in front of him," Gets to know what _my_ plans for tonight are, except for me. That's fair." It comes out sarcastic and playful, but truthfully, Stiles was a little ticked off.

"You're too serious." Lydia jokes, throwing a curl over her shoulder.

When the bell rings again, he goes straight home. Feeling a little too worn out for just 3 periods. His father's coffee cup sits in the same place, half full. Stiles figures he has to do something for the next hour, so he fills the sink with warm soapy water and starts washing. The house is silent, aside from the glass plates beneath him, and it makes Stiles feel impeccably sad. He didn't do great in the silence, his thoughts beat the shit out of him. The Adderall helped, yeah, but his mind would forever be a cluster fuck. Finally, he finishes, and he sits at the table. 3:15. School's been out almost half an hour, and Scott was probably looking for him. The phone rings against his ear before its replaced with his best friends voice.

"Stiles? Are you home already?"

"I skipped."

"Well we're coming to pick you up."

"Oh-okay." He mumbles, dying to know where they were going. The line ends, and Stiles runs upstairs to grab his wallet. He knew already that Lydia was probably forced to go as a returned favor. Or maybe she was going for laughs. Either way, this wasn't going to be treated like a real date. There's a horn outside that interrupts Stiles' thoughts. He puts his jacket on and meets Scott, whose sitting in the back seat.

Everyone is talking and laughing as they drive into town, except Stiles. Who just now, noticed a text message from Derek. He hold his phone tight, like it'll slip through his fingers if he didn't. His head trembles slightly as he clicks delete.

"Why are you being so quiet?" Lydia calls from the passengers seat.

"I'm just excited to know where we're going." Stiles lies, placing both hands in the back of Lydia's head rest, and leaning forward,"where _are_ we going?"

Lydia shrugs," Can't say."

The car veers left, into the Macy's parking lot.

"We're here." Allison chimes.

"Huh. Macy's." Stiles scoffs towards Scott, who's smiling like a dork next him. Everyone turns toward Stiles, smiling and it makes him feel weird.

"Okay I'm pretty sure I'm in a horror film and you guys are going to kill me...right?" Lydia rolls her eyes, and everyone steps out of the car.

"Macy's?" Stiles whispers.

"Macy's" Lydia nods, strutting her stuff a few feet in front of him.

They start shopping in the shoe section. The girls try on some heels, and Stiles notices how Scott's tongue hangs out of his mouth, much like a dog. They even convince the boys to try on a pair, and laugh as they hold each others hands to keep balance. Finally, Lydia decides on a pair, and takes Stiles to the men's section. She pulls out shirt after sweater after jacket, handing them to Stiles who now looks like a close rack. Then they go to the jeans.

"What size?" Lydia rubs her fingers over a stack of blue jeans.

"Whatever fits." Stiles struggles with the clothes that rest in his arms.

Lydia walks behind him, pulling on the back of his Levis, "Hmm." She hums, raising an eyebrow at the tag. Then she starts pulling out jeans. Jeans with holes, cuts, plain jeans, dark blue, light blue, beige. Until Stiles complains about the weight, and they walk to the dressing room.

"Drop them." Lydia points to the floor. He gives her a confused look before dropping the pile. She leans down, putting together random outfits and handing each to Stiles in neat little stacks.

"Now." She waves her perfect manicured hand towards the dressing room.

"Uh, oh. Um put these on?" He holds up the clothes with an insecure look on his face, but Lydia just smiles, bobbing her head.

The first outfit is nice. A plain white shirt with small ivory colored buttons making a loose collar. The beige jeans fit in all the right ways. He steps out of the dressing room, confident. "Well?" He holds his arms out, allowing Lydia to closely inspect it.

"Mmm," She shakes her head," Again."

He tries on a few more outfits before coming to a navy blue baseball jersey, and worn out blue jeans. This one, he definitely likes.

"Is it..great?" He laughs.

"Weird, every individual piece is good. Usually I have this down, but I just can't figure out what is right for you." She puts her hand against her chin, as if in deep thought.

"Well, what about..." Stiles reaches for those beige jeans from the first outfit, and runs to put them on. Before allowing Lydia to go into her inspection, he looks in the mirror. _I look...wow._

"This?" He smiles as she motions for him to turn with that perfect index finger.

"Now you're getting it, Stilinski." He gets dressed, leaving his mess in the unattended dressing room. The pants and baseball jersey held proudly in his hand. Lydia's new white wedges in the other.

"You really did look...nice." She smiles. _This date might be fake, but that was sincere._ They meet Allison and Scott in line. The cashier is a young blond girl. Stiles places everything on the counter, and the cashier smiles.

"How cute, buying these for you're girlfriend?"She squeals, winking at Lydia who remains un-amused.

Stiles only gives her a small grin as he pulls out his wallet.

"That's 58 even."

"58, as in 5-8?" Stiles twitched, mouth forming an O. He hands her 60, which was meant to be used for new lacrosse gear.

As they walk out, Allison reaches for Stiles' bag. She nods in approval," I like it."

The ride home is much less quiet. Everyone laughs at Stiles who is dancing and singing along to the music through the radio. They drop him off first, and as he climbs out of the car, and into the evening air, Lydia calls from her window,"Thanks for the shoes." Stiles nods. Maybe she actually did enjoy herself. He walks up the driveway, unlocking the door. He's just glad that Allison hadn't mentioned the call from that morning. Or that his curiousness didn't get the best of him, giving him the power to delete the alpha's text without reading it. Once safely in his room, he opens up the white Macy's bag and tries his clothes on again.

"Looking good Stilinski, looking good."

**I hated writing this chapter. It just took so long. Guess I should stop being lazy and give the people what they want. CAUTION: Sterek Construction Zone Ahead.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey, I'm sorry I haven't written in a while. I've been very busy, but I promise this story has big plans. Thank you so much for reading. Follow, Favorite, Review. **

Friday morning comes fast, Meeting Stiles with a chill that crystallizes on his window. He loves that; the special shiver that only comes with a summer morning. It's cold, yeah, but only to an extent. When it seeps into his skin, melting in the heat of his body, it fills him with something he's not very used to. A calm, a steady breath, a clear thought. When the moments interrupted by the smell of hot food, Stiles is brought back to a reality he's not too sure he wants to be. He slowly crawls out of bed, meeting each hug of the comforter with a pleased smile. He follows his nose to the kitchen, where the Sheriffs leaning over a pile of pancakes.

"Oh Stiles, here." He pushes a plate across the table, food protruding his stern mouth.

"What's the occasion?" Stiles asks slowly before taking a seat.

"I have the graveyard shift, so I won't be home tonight. And this weekend I promised some of the guys from the station we'd go hunting."

Stiles puts his hands behind his head, reminiscing in the free ideas of the weekend.

"House to myself." He smiles.

"Hey," John points his fork towards Stiles,"No party's."

"Yeah yeah Dad."

Truthfully, Stiles was excited to have the weekend to himself. He'd hung out with Scott or Allison Or Lydia everyday since they went shopping. And he had no doubt it was Allison's idea. She truly found the entire Derek situation not okay. But at least shed kept it a secret. Derek, Stiles hadn't thought about him much. Sunday he marked the incident as a drunk mistake, and left it at that. His mind jumps back to shopping; his new outfit. He was waiting all week to wear it. Odd, how in those soft threads he found so much comfort. Not that Stiles was insecure, not at all; he had too much stuff going through his head already. He just felt RIGHT in that outfit. The type of right that makes him look in a mirror every time he passes. Conceded, maybe? Not like Jackson bad but en-

"Stiles?" His eyes snap to a worried Sheriff.

"Sorry, sometimes I just... I was thinking"

"Well you were eating so fast.."

Stiles looks down at his plate, his short stack half downed. He hadn't even realized he was eating.

"I swear bud, one day your gonna drown in those thoughts of yours." John picks up their plates, rinsing them in the sink.

"Yeah, right. I'm gonna go get ready for school." Stiles stands, eyes filmy and staring at an old soda can; still tranced deeply in thought.

"I love you."

"Love you too Dad."

The outfit feels even better today. The way the navy blue baseball jersey curves against his muscles. How the color makes his eyes shine more honey than auburn . The way the beige pants fit his long legs, making each step look unique. He slips on his Adidas, lacing them in perfect bows. On several occasions, Scott had asked why he didn't just throw them away. But he couldn't imagine that. Yeah, maybe they didn't look good with everything, maybe they were worn and dirty, but they were just so undeniable, Stiles.  
On the way to school, he checks himself out in the rear view mirror a few times. And once fully satisfied with his hair and clothes, he parks. Scott's waiting for him by a set if lockers.

"That's a good shirt. What are you doing this weekend?" Scott smiles, holding both straps of his backpack.

Stiles didn't feel like hanging out for the next couple of days, it was just gonna be a well needed vacation.

"Uhm well my Dads going hunting, so I have to hold down the fort."

"Oh cool! We should hangout."

"Can't," He lies,"Not allowed to have anyone over this weekend."

"You should come to my house then." Scott pushes.

"And leave the house to itself? That's not exactly how you hold down the fort," He jokes, but quickly redeems with,"Next weekend though."

The bell rings and all the kids run off to class. Stiles finds it funny how different the mood is from Monday to Friday.  
Classes fly by; the teachers don't seem to drone on today. Maybe it's because finals start next week. And Stiles was only slightly nervous for that.

At lunch, only the girls are at the table. And Stiles remembers that Scott had to make up a test. Being around Allison made him feel more uneasy than Lydia. The fact that she new about last weekends events just felt imposing; though at the time he desperately needed someone to listen. That's why this weekend was so important, it was a chance to make up for the one prior. The girls wait for him to reach the table before standing.

"We're gonna get some smoothies, want anything?"

He shakes his head, sitting down,"No thanks."

As they cross the cafeteria to the snack bar, he can't help but notice how people stare. And finds himself somewhat ogling them too. How in the world he went from being no one to sitting with some of the most flawless people in school, he had no idea. It has a lot to do with the bite. Stiles was thankful that it made Scott's asthma go away, somehow got him captain of the lacrosse team, and not to forget Allison Argent; but often, Stiles realized what Scott didn't always take into account. That the bite is a curse. That it made them have to keep secrets that can easily drive a man crazy. Stiles is constantly surprised by how well Scott manages everything, he has a lot of respect for the boy whose become a huge part of his life. And he wonders, 'what if I had taken the bite? Where would I be now? Would my ADHD be so bad?' A current of confusion and curiosity flood his mind. 'What if?' But all in all he knows that being plain old Stiles is what he truly wants. That he wouldn't trade this life for some claws and gold eyes. For alphas and packs and omegas and betas. For full moons and wolfsbane. Though, even when human he had to deal with these things; it was much different from the other side.

"I bought you a mango smoothie anyway." Allison smiles, holding it out to him. He nods and grabs the styrofoam cup. Pulling 2 dollars from his pocket, Stiles tosses it across the table.

"Thank you." He takes a bite of the straw, letting the mango fill his mouth.

"I like the outfit." Lydia doesn't flinch, doesn't even smile. Her face stays exactly the same, putting her glossy lips against the straw. She says it like stating a fact, or pronouncing a word from a different language.

"Oh this old thing?" Stiles pinches the collar, pulling it slightly.

She nods, face blank.

"Thank you, for picking it out."

The rest of lunch he sits quietly, listening to their conversations about finals and theories, and things he couldn't be less interested in. He leaves before the bell chimes off, getting to fifth period early. Class is short, they watch an old black and white film, talking all period. Stiles doesn't talk to anyone though, he just draws. Circles and triangles. He tries to remember the tattoo on Derek's back, the direction of each curve. After a few attempts of recreating it, he get frustrated and gives up.

In last period, they have a very old sub. Who, to Stiles, looks practically in tatters. After she takes attendance, he sneaks out the door. No one seems to notice. The entire class is jumping and yelling and acting completely foolish. He feels bad for the poor woman. The halls are completely empty, so Stiles just struts out the front doors without even being bothered. He had expected this to be a quiet weekend to himself, but when he spotted a shiny Camaro parked a few spaces from the Jeep, he knew the alpha had other plans. The entire week he'd avoided Derek, ignoring the text message, and trying his best to get that hyper active brain of his to stray as far as possible from anything werewolf. And today, of all days, Hale had to crash the party. By now Stiles had successfully convinced himself that it was just a mistake. And he was going to take this situation the same way he had been, by ignoring it. Besides, the wolf was probably just here to pick up Scott or Isaac. Still, being in this situation made him feel uncomfortably choked up. And as Stiles gets a few feet from the Camaro, it shifts into reverse, blocking the path to his Jeep.

_Ignore. Ignore. Ignore._

He sidesteps, trying to make his way around the black car. His palms sweat, throat tightens.

"Stiles."

_Ignore._

His name, rolling off the wolf's tongue, feels inappropriate. Its dirty against his ears, but just sweet enough to make his heart skip a beat.

"Stiles listen."

_Ignore. Ignore._

Derek pulls the Camaro up behind the Jeep. Officially aggravated, Stiles clenches his jaw, trying to walk around the car again.

As he steps past the passenger window, A deep growl plays towards him.  
Ignore.

"Don't make me get out of this car, you don't want that." Stiles stops dead in his tracks before angrily turning towards Derek. He leans cautiously into the window. It was an empty threat, but for some reason, he couldn't find the sanity to keep walking.

"What do you want." The tone of Stiles' voice makes him feel like a different person.

"You still owe me that favor."

_Shit, shit, shit._

He doesn't respond, throwing Derek off a bit.

"Grocery shopping, bring them to my house when you're done." He tosses a neatly folded list at Stiles, a 50 crisply held inside.

"And if I don't?"

"Oh you're going to bring them... Because you owe me."

"I don't owe _you_ anything." Stiles argues under his breath, and before Derek can respond, He pushes himself off the car. The alpha knew this was probably a bad idea, but he needed to talk to Stiles. Because if it was any indication, The kid was lost in the same sea of emotions as him. In the rear view mirror, he can see Stiles slamming the door of the Jeep.

"Stupid fucking wolf." His hands slip as he reaches for the steering wheel, coated in sweat.

"Stupid fucking grocery shopping, stupid favor, stupid stupid drunk fucking Stiles."

He rambles as he pulls out of the parking lot, taking a right to the nearest grocery store. As he parks, he takes a moment to gather a rational thought. The list crumbled in his shaking hand. When he opens it, the 50 falls in his lap. At the bottom, in perfect black inked cursive it reads, "_I expect to see you tonight_". That really pisses Stiles off, because Derek shouldn't expect anything from him. Skimming over the list, he only asks for pretty simple things. Garlic bread, bow tie noodles, some expensive cheese. Just the basic needs for spaghetti. So he stumbles out of the Jeep, angrily mopes to the shopping carts, and heads down isle one. It takes Stiles no more than 20 minutes to get everything together, and he figures with the extra money, Derek at least owed him a candy. So, he grabs a red sucker while checking out. Because if there was one thing he knew about himself, it's that he loves sweets. He saw this opportunity, and took it.

"Derek owes me a lot more than just one sucker."

He tosses on the conveyor belt a handful of lollipops, giving the cashier a shy grin.

"Got a sweet tooth huh?" The man pushes his glasses farther up his nose, passing the groceries to the bagger.

"You could say that." Stiles hands him the fifty, popping the red sucker into his mouth. When the cashier tries to hand back change, Stiles shakes his head.

"Keep it."

The cashier looks surprised for a moment, but smiles. He drops the money into a small box, "Thank you for your donation."

Stiles nods, leaning over the cart. The sucker is sweeter than he remembered, and right now it seems to be the only thing keeping his anger at bay. He throws the groceries into the passenger seat, and as he pushes the cart back, he notices a red mark on his new shirt. It just about throws him over board. At this point he's a time bomb just ready to blow.

The road to Derek's house is the calmest drive, despite Stiles' sea of emotions

"That was faster than I expected. Maybe I should make you shop for me more often." Derek jokes as if they've been friends forever.  
Tick.

"Just get you're groceries so I can go."

"Could you help me?"

"What's wrong? The big wolf not able to carry all these bags?"

"The faster we get these inside, the faster you can leave."

Stiles sighs in agreement.

As he reaches for one of the grocery bags, Derek's hand slides across his. The feeling is hush on the boy's skin, and he notices the look of assurance The alpha wears as soon as their hands meet. As if trying to tell him that he shouldn't be afraid of the touch.

_Tick._

They unload the groceries into the kitchen.

"Thanks," Derek nods, "You can keep the change."

Stiles grins at himself, "I already donated it."

He spins on his heel, walking towards the front door, but Derek jogs there first; clicking the lock.

_Tick._

"What the hell are you doing?"

"We have to talk about what happened."

"No, we don't. It was just a mistake. There now we talked."

"Stiles. You are going to stay right here until we talk, whether you like it or not."

"You're aware my dads the sheriff? I could get you in trouble for this, like serious trouble."

"And you're aware that I'm a werewolf, and-"

_Tick._

"I'm not afraid of you." Stiles tries to walk past him but a strong arm wraps around his stomach. As it pulls him, Stiles finds his back pinned to Derek's chest. The alphas arms wrapped around his biceps, deeming them useless against his ribs.

_Tick._

"I had you go shopping so I could make us dinner. I thought you'd be more comfortable talking about it when you had food or something to distract you."

"Derek let me go. I don't want to be on this stupid date." Stiles squirms for a while, and Derek matches every move. When finally Stiles realizes that there's no way out of this he angrily grunts a "Fine I'll stay, but just for dinner."

"Good," Derek lets go, walking back towards the kitchen, "And trust me, I'm not wanting to date you."

_Tick._

Stiles didn't know why, but that last part made him so mad he had to ball his fists into his pockets to keep from screaming. Back in the kitchen, Derek's already started un packing the bags. He opens cabinets and drawers. Throwing random utensils across the counter. Stiles takes a seat at the bar, somewhat amused by the struggling wolf.

"You have no idea what you're doing."

Derek turns to him, two skillets in either hand. He points one at Stiles, "Yes I do."

It takes a while, but eventually Derek has all the correct utensils laid out.

"Noodles." He chimes, filling a large pot with water. Without warning, Stiles throws the noodles across the room. Derek's back is turned, and as the noodles become level with his face, his arm reaches up, catching them.

"Thanks."

_Tick._

After pouring the noodles in, he turns towards Stiles.

"Can you hand me that cheese?"

"No." He pushes the lollipop deep in his mouth, letting it sit on his tongue. Derek stares at him, eyebrows slightly furrowed. Then his eyes move down Stiles' mouth, down his neck, to the small red stain on his shirt. The boys eyes follow, and he frowns at the mark. He'd completely forgot that he was wearing his new outfit; compliments of Lydia.

"Here." He flinches when Derek presses a cold damp rag against his shirt.

_Tick.  
__Why is he touching me again?_

Stiles reluctantly grabs the cloth, scrubbing the stain to a shade of soft pink.

From across the room, Derek calls, "You shouldn't be eating so much candy anyway, it's not good for you." The wolf continues stirring the spaghetti sauce.

Stiles can't help it, but he laughs, "You sound just like m..." His voice trails into nothing.

There's an immediate tension in the room, and they stay quiet for a long while. Until Derek turns to him, holding a roll of French bread in his hand.

"Could you make the garlic bread?"

And though Stiles wants to say no; argue with the alpha, he nods. There was a feeling in him when he thought about his mom, and it threatened him with tears whenever he tried to talk.

"Okay, um here." Derek pushes a few thing towards him, then cuts the bread in half.

Stiles spreads a thick layer of butter on both sides, then powders it over with garlic slices, and garlic salt. The alpha walks over, laying a few pieces of cheese across each half.

"Thank you."

Stiles nods again, standing up. He walks to the dining table, throwing his suckers on the chipping wood. A few minutes pass before the entire house is filled with a sweet sent of buttery garlic, and expensive cheese. Derek inches into the dining room, a pot in between his mitten hands. He places it on the table and leaves again; quickly returning with plates and cups. Then juices and the garlic bread. After everything is placed, he takes a seat across from Stiles.

"Do I have to serve you too?"

_Tick._

"No." Stiles takes a plate, filling it with garlic bread and spaghetti. He had to admit, it made him hungry. The smoothie at lunch didn't even make a dent in his stomach, but before he even took a bite, he had to talk. The sooner he talked, the sooner he could leave. And as if Derek was reading his mind, the alpha whispered, "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"What happened, between us."

_Tick._

He can't even say it.

"Oh you mean us kissing?"

The tensing of Derek's shoulders bring a grin across Stiles' face.

"Yeah."

"It was a mistake, I'm over it." He swirls his fork in the spaghetti, and it wraps up around the cold metal. Sighing steam at the touch. Derek still doesn't reply, the conversation making him feel awkward despite the fact that he wanted to have it. Stiles realizes the unsteady, nervous trait. He leans forward, swallowing a bite, "Are you gonna talk or what? Because I have stuff to do."

"What do you want me to say? I only wanted to have this talk so I could answer any questions you had."

Stiles' jaw clenches, hardly holding back rage that was boiling for no reason. And he knew that he was being stupid for acting so mad. But with everything that had happened between them recently, confusion and anger were the only emotions that settled on Stiles today. He says to ask questions, and Stiles has a million, but still they won't come out. Won't open his tight jaw. He starts easy.

"What did you mean by not wanting to date me... What's wrong with _me_? I mean not that I want to date you either. And not that I'm-" He stops himself. The look Derek wears says he's lying, and he knows now that it's best to just shut up. But he can't," And in the bedroom when I said I wasn't gay you said I was lying, what was that about!?" His jaw loosens, words form in his head.

"It's not that I don't want to date _you_. There's nothing wrong with _you_, I just don't want a relationship." Again, the anger builds in Stiles, and he has no idea why. Or maybe he does, "And in the bedroo-"

"If you didn't want a relationship then why did you kiss me? And don't say you we're drunk because I've done my research. The alcohol is not strong enough to stay in your system very long."  
Derek was quiet across from him.

_Tick._

He shrugs at his plate. Eyes on anything but Stiles.

"Answer me." His voice is smothered in anger.

"Derek."

Still, the wolf is silent.

_Tick. Tick. Tick._

The words were read to just pour out of him, and he was ready to let them.

"You can't just fucking kiss me like that! You can't make me feel like _that_ and then say you don't want a relationship. I am so mad and hurt and confused! This just- it doesn't make any sense to me! I didn't ask for this Derek! You're the one that said we need to talk yet you're just sitting there. I've got questions, and now that I'm ready to discuss this, you're just done? It isn't fair. I need answers," He takes in a deep breath, "I deserve answers."

Derek doesn't say anything. When Stiles looks up, eyes flaming, The wolf shakes his head.

"I don't have answers."

_Boom._

"Fuck you Derek." Stiles' palms slap against the table, and everything quivers beneath his trembling fists. Derek's glass topples over, staining the table; but the wolf doesn't even flinch. When Stiles walks frustrated to the front door, there are sudden footsteps behind him. Then an arm holding it shut.

"Stiles I can-"

"You've done enough already." The boy wipes his dripping eyes.

In an instant, Derek's hand drops. The alpha wants to hug him, or kiss him, or stop him; but he can't move. The door flings open, and Stiles is down the porch.  
Derek's hurt, seeing Stiles this way. In the kitchen he tried to answer him, desperately wanted to, but the boy just couldn't read him. Couldn't see the emotions pooling in the alphas eyes, or the fire burning there.

But Stiles is hurt too, so he lets him go.


	5. Chapter 5

Derek hadn't expected Stiles to come back. There was no reason as to why he should. Though the wolf had hope hanging there in the back of his mind... _somewhere_.

The boy, so fragile, made his point clear; running out of the house with tears threatening. Derek knew Stiles was long gone, but still the wolf waited. He waited until the engine of Stiles' Jeep was clear out of hearing range. He waited until the spaghetti went cold. He waited until the sun hid behind the trees. He waited until stars littered the sky. And then he waited longer. He stood there, beside the door. In the same spot that he'd been when Stiles fled outside; tears smothering his face, smothering Derek. His feet planted to the burnt floorboards, shoulders stiff for hours now. He had no idea what he was waiting for. The only readable thought going through his mind was Stiles.

Stiles cooking. Stiles' lips as he ate that red lollipop so teasingly, tantalizingly slow. Stiles' voice when he mentioned Derek making him "feel like that." Stiles' face as he slammed his quivering fists on the table. Stiles' eyes, broken and dripping with so many emotions it made Derek's head spin, as he looked at the wolf one last time before escaping out the door.

The feeling that pools in Derek is awfully strong. It twists around his heart and squeezes, plays with the most fragile strings that lie there. Worms itself through his veins and somehow finds a way to make his wolf howl without the slightest utter slipping from his tongue. He doesn't know much about the feeling that's spreading. Guilt? Is it a physical pain? Or Is he too full of anger, at himself, to feel anything but the numbness on his skin? The only thing he takes into account is the fact that _he_ made Stiles cry. Derek shakes, this was all his fault, he _had_ to fix this. Without the slightest thought he slides one foot across the floorboards, giving his stiff muscles a weak try at moving. The noise that screeches from the wood against rubber is God awful. Once used to the feeling of moving, he looks to the forest. In a moment the alphas sprung out of the already open door, down the porch.

He's running, sprinting. Flying passed a parade of trees. The moon above howling to him. An alphas pulse slamming against Derek's skin. Breathing heavy puffs of dancing, foggy air. Legs pumping blood, driven by tears. There's a _crunch_ a _snap_ under each step. And there's a trail of broken leaves behind him. He races clear out of the forest, met by light posts and sidewalks. The alpha darts past sleeping houses and cold cars; pace never slowing. The sound of feet beating against the cement. Derek's nervous, shaking. Once Stiles' scent hits his nose, burning his senses, he shivers; coming to a fast jog. Then, relieved to see only a Jeep parked in the Stilinski driveway.

The house is like a tomb. Dark and cold; reeking of a fragile Stiles. Derek doesn't slow, doesn't even hesitate at pounding his fists to the front door. But after a moment of no response, he knocks again.

_I have to fix this._

His jaws clenched, teeth bared. Arms and muscles flexing inside of a dark shirt. Small bubbles of sweat swim down his neck, pooling slightly in his collarbone. And the cool night air sends a tremble through the strong body. Inside, there is a very quite noise. A bed shifting. Then stairs being climbed down. When the door begins to open, Derek wants to close up; remain speechless. But his wolf reminds him that he's come too far, forcing words to form on the pursed lips.

Light from inside drapes over a shirtless Stiles, pajama pants hanging too low on his hips. His eyes are squinted, sensitive from his just awaken sleep.

Derek half expects Stiles to shut the door, but the boy stands there quietly.

"Go on a date with me." He urges, hands trembling.

The boy yawns. Rubbing his eyes before walking back into the house. He leaves the door wide open, gesturing for Derek to follow.

Stiles isn't surprised he showed up, though he want anticipating the wolfs arrival. He just wanted to get this over with, go back to sleep. But from the headache hugging the bridge of his nose, he knows sleep just isn't an option right now. Why the hell is Derek so frantic anyway? And why would he decide to come try and apologize now. What time was it even?

Derek joins Stiles in the kitchen, where he's retrieved a bottle of pills from the cabinet. The alpha patiently waits for the teen to get a cup, and take his Adderall. After downing an entire glass of frigid water, Stiles looks at him. His eyes opened just a bit wider, but still droopy and red.

Finally, Derek's words process through the boys mind, and he wonders if he's actually dreaming. The thought of a date completely pissing him off. Derek was nothing but rudeness and muscles towards Stiles. Just empty threats. And when reminding himself of that, the teen gains more confidence than probably safe.

"Let me get this straight," He yawns again, hands crossing his bare stomach, "After tricking me to your house, forcing me to stay, pissing me off, and making me cry, you expect me to just go on a date with you?"

His voice is cocky, forcing Derek to crack a smile because its so unlike Stiles.

"Ugh yeah, I guess so." It sounded a lot _cuter_ in his head.

"No." Stiles shrugs, leaning back against the counter. Cheeks blushing when he catches the placid tone of his voice.

"No?"

"Why should I?"

"Because..." Derek stops, watching Stiles' hand slip beneath his waist band. Resting against the smooth fair skin of his hip.

Stiles nods as if expected that answer, "You truly and honestly want to go on a date... With me?"

Derek grunts, head bobbing slowly.

"You're the most confused person I know," Stiles laughs, throwing his head slightly back, and if Derek didn't realize it before he does now; he's in heat. Because he wants to make Stiles throw his head back for a whole new reason, "I mean seriously, you just said that you didn't even want a relationship."

Derek tries to fight it, but again his wolf proves stronger. His mouth sputters before his mind, "It's impossible not to want you."

He wants to throw his hand over his face, he wants to run out of the house and never see the boy again. But before he can move there is a blush that shoots up Stiles' neck to his cheeks; and at the sight, Derek couldn't mean it more. Still, he mentally curses his heat.

It's silent for a moment, Derek can't find a single breath of air in this room. He watches as Stiles' eye twitches, and his lips unwillingly pull at the corners. Revealing a shy smile that almost knocks the alpha over. Cautiously, he walks to the counter opposite of Stiles, propping himself on it's surface. The room is silent, and the boy's heart beat pounds in both their ears.

_What is that supposed to mean!? Did Derek just admit to liking me? What time is it even? Oh my god Stiles, what've you gotten your stupid stupid self into?!_

Derek peeks up from his lap, Stiles staring blankly through him. The wolf nods, jumping back to the floor, "I'm sorry. I don't know why I...I should go." He makes to leave but from behind him Stiles makes a small noise. It's short, slipping from his lips. Like he was going to say something but decided not to at the last minute. "Huh?" Derek turns.

Stiles gains a little composure and nods, "Okay, right now."

"Right now?"

"Yeah, we're going on the date right now."

"But it's two in the morning. We can't go anywhere."

"But it's two in the morning, and we can go anywhere," Stiles grins. "And I know exactly where."

Derek follows him up the stairs, each floorboard screeching beneath their steps. He was having trouble understanding what the _hell_ just happened.

_Stiles agreed? on a date? with ME?_

He was being led to a room completely drenched in the boys scent. Already, he could so strongly smell it. When the blushing boy pushes open the door, a wall of warmth and the scent of honey and brown sugar that was so uniquely _Stiles_, hits Derek. It nearly chokes him, smothers him, and he loves it. Loves the sweet thickness of each breath like what he'd imagine a French inhale off Stiles' lips to be. It's only then that Derek realizes how much he likes the teen's smell, the adrenaline it released in him.

Stiles shuffles through his closet, "I know they're here somewhere." He throws clothes and books and things left and rights across the room.

Derek takes a seat on Stiles' bed, giving it a few bounces. His heat was gnawing at him, and all he wanted to do was grab Stiles. Pin him against these blankets.

After a while of searching, Stiles gives up. Taking a seat on the plush comforter next to Derek. The heat was setting him on fire, and it scared him when he realized what little control he had over it. So he let himself burn. Everything was blurry, but from the corner of his eye he made out Stiles staring him down with malicious intent. Derek dared a glance, and at the turn of his head Stiles' lips crushed against his. He wrapped his arms around the giggling teen, falling back onto the bed. They lied there, one on top of the other, biting and sucking on every inch of easy to access skin. When he growls, the bed trembles from Stiles' body. And a slight moan kisses his ears. Oh yes, he definitely likes that reaction. This time when he growls, Stiles' arms give out. He falls flat on Derek, and the wolf flips their positions so he's pinning the trembling body beneath hi-

"Here we go." Stiles holds two sleeping bags in either hand. He tosses both to Derek, catching the wolf off guard and smacking him clear across the face, "You carry-bahahahaha." Stiles bursts out in a fit of laughter. Grinning at the red mark he'd caused across Derek's face.

_What just?... Was I imagining that?_  
The alpha thought, glaring at Stiles who was now leaning against the wall to keep from falling.

Derek threw a sleeping bag across the room, hitting the boy in the torso. But it didn't even phase him. It actually made him laugh harder, tears peaking out of the corners of his eyes.

"It's not that funny." Derek states, cheeks blushing slightly and he has no idea why.

Suddenly Stiles becomes very serious, "Oh yes, it's definitely that funny. Haha. Big bad, ahaha. Big bad wolf, my ass.

Derek's silent, still trying to understand what his heat was doing to him. He's had heats before, plenty of times, but never like this. He watches as Stiles straightens himself from the folded position against the wall. He wipes tears away from his eyes. Then Stiles walks over to the bed, and Derek's breath stops. Unable to pry his imagination apart from reality. But when Stiles reaches for some pillows off the bed, walking back to the doorway, the wolf can tell it's actually happening. Otherwise Stiles would be tangled limb by limb to his alpha.

_His alpha? What the hell is wrong with me?_

Stiles takes one long glance around the room before nodding, "We'll, c'mon."

Derek picks up the sleeping bags, following Stiles as he flies down the stairs. He shoots the wolf excited glances as they cross the living room to a glass door. Stiles slides it open, revealing the wooden deck of their backyard.

"Lay those blankets down. Jeez I haven't done this in so long."

Derek starts to get the gist of things. He lays the blankets on the patios wood floor. Making sure they're a good length apart; his heat gnawing gnawing gnawing.

"We'll how am I suppose to talk to you if you're way over there?" Stiles pushes the blankets till they're only inches from one another.

Derek gives a big gulp, eyebrows raising. He watches Stiles take a deep breath of the sky. Marveling at the stars. But he shakes his head, walking back to the house and turning off the patio light. Carefully, Stiles tip toes to the sleeping bag, eyes adjusting to the dark. Derek removes his shirt, climbing in his blanket. Not daring to take off his pants.

Stiles lies down too, looking back to the night with satisfaction. Face glowing with shooting stars. Derek's seen this dark sky a hundred times, but there's something about right now that makes it so new to him. Stiles.

"I used to do this a lot, when I was little you know? There are just so many stars." The teen turns towards Derek, and he wonders if the wolf realizes the slightest of grins cracking his lips.

"You can see a lot at my house," He turns too, "I think you'd like it. It's... gorgeous."

_Gorgeous_. It's not a word Stiles would expect Derek to say.

He tries to hold back a laugh at the memory of Derek taking a sleeping bag to the face, but a small outburst slips through his lips. He uses it to hide behind, shielding himself from the true emotion brewing in his thin skin. It's not embarrassment or nervousness. It's not bad or good. It's thrilling and calm and perfect. It's new, and Stiles finds his cheeks warm in a blush against the night air every few moments when he thinks about Derek looking over at him. He feels like his tongue might fall out of his mouth or his lips might melt if he tried to talk. So they stay silent. And it's so fitting to have the wind and crickets play the background noise.

The moment is so red-hot to them both. Derek can hear a rapid drumming in the fragile chest beside him. It makes him nervous, excited. And if Stiles listens closely, he swears he can make out a deep steady thump from his right.

Stiles fights the silence, and nods. staring in awe at the sky, "Do they ever end?"

The wolf jumps at the sound, "Everything good comes to an end."

"I hate that, It's not fair." It's silent again for a long time before Derek tests words on his lips.

"I know. I'm sorry." The mumble sound is shaky, and he sinks deeper into the sleeping bag, feeling stupid for saying something like that to Stiles.

"When I was younger we used to do this all the time. We'd all lay out sleeping bags and make sweets. Dad was home more back then, when he was just the deputy."

Derek gives a compliant grunt for Stiles to continue.

He only changes the subject, "Turn around." The teen whispers, but Derek gives him a confused look, "Like on your side. Let me see your back."

Slowly, the wolf shifts in his sleeping bag until his back is bare to Stiles. The stars glowing over each muscle. The boy stares at the tattoo, analyzing. Take into account his mistakes when drawing it during class. He turns onto his rib cage, admiring. With a little talk of courage, he reaches with an unsteady hand; finger curved out. The cold tip of his index meets burning skin, and he's surprised to see the alpha jump. He traces the tattoo very gently. The touch, to him, is hot. Fresh and riveting. It makes his face feel on fire, jaw slack, limbs numb. But he feels everything beneath that fingertip. He feels alive and melting. He feels smooth skin and muscles that arch and flex under the tickling trace.

Derek, Derek's on fire. Derek's frozen. His heat has gone from gnawing to tearing. Ripping at the lowest pit of his stomach. Fueled by just a graze of fingertips over his back. He tries to stay calm, keep from shaking. But from this raw, thrilling, out of body experience; he has no idea what he's doing. He can't feel a thing, except the gentle touch tracing along the lines of his tattoo; and his dwindling sanity. And everything about this is absolutely terrifying.

Derek opens his mouth, giving words a try, "Each spiral means something different. To me, it's alpha, beta, and omega." It comes off harsh and a tad frantic, voice thick in nervousness.

"I know." Stiles slides all his fingertips over the alphas muscles, letting goose bumps rise on the tan skin. Then the hand slips back into the warmth of his sleeping bag, which was now burning against him.

Derek forgot that aside from driving him crazy, Stiles made a great researcher too.

Neither of them moved. They stayed in place, taking in the feeling of every moment. With each breath, each word, each falling star they share for the next couple of hours, something washes over them. It's warm and contagious, spreading through all their limbs. Quicker than wild fire. And there's no place neither one of them would rather be.

Their sleeping bags are so close that every so often, when Stiles shuffles for comfort, his leg will graze Derek's. It's a gentle contact that leaves the wolfs heat pinching. But he doesn't mind the touch.

"What did you mean by me making you 'you feel that way'?" Derek mumbles the last half into his blanket.

The boy shrugs, heart picking up slightly, "the kiss, it was...hot. It just like stirred some emotions, alright?"

They lie silent and still again. Acknowledging and accepting each others company. As the night sky gradually paints with dark blues to light, they slip in out of consciousness. And before they take the plunge into full slumber Stiles uses the moment to whisper, "I forgive you."

**So hello! Thanks for reading this uhm.. Well whatever this is. I'm well aware that things are escalating quickly, but I want some fluff ****_now_**** dammit. You can back out at anytime, y'all don't have to read this fast paced, annoyingly out of character, piece of imaginary literature run amok. Annnnywho, review as you please. ~Sailboat**


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